Maes v Kimblee
by Sakura-Revolution
Summary: Something I wrote on a dare. But really, it could happen I think, if Maes got mad enough. Rated T for a death, and undeath... Updated
1. Chapter 1

Blood was filling his mouth, and he turned his head to spit it out, and stared at the pink froth. The hit had sent him over someone's footlocker, and he wondered what it had been doing pulled away from the foot of the bunk. Maes was standing over him, his breathing ragged and enraged, while Roy's face showed far more shock than Kimblee himself was feeling. His mouth still tasted bloody, and although he willed himself to swallow it, he could bring himself to, and spat again.

"You wouldn't know…" Maes repeated, and Roy started to say something, his mouth opened and shut, and Kimblee felt his face split into a grin, despite the pain in his jaw… where the hell was all this blood coming from? He spat again, and Maes seemed visibly calmer. "Roy… he isn't… responsible…." He stopped abruptly, and began to breathe slowly. Kimblee saw his chance and was on his feet in a moment, pushing Maes up against the wall… he could have used his alchemy to blow up his comrade, but his pride was hurt, so he wanted to regain it… and an explosion wasn't a fair fight.

"Isn't he?" Kimblee purred, his mails digging both into Maes's shoulders and into the wall of the tent that he had him against. "Then who DID pull that trigger?" He said in his best innocent voice. Roy was looking sick again, and soon left to throw up again… although how vomit could be worse than bloody spit on the floor, Kimblee had no idea. Maes was growling again, and the two men wrestled against each other… their strength almost equal… between Maes's stronger body type, and the muscle that lined Kimblee's arms from long years of work on a farm, the two could not gain anything on one another. Kimblee's eyes were full of his usual fire, and Maes finally gave him a push, and he fell again… and was still.

"Don't touch him!" Roy said, and Maes stopped in his tracks. The best friends stood, looking at Kimblee, whose head was slowly becoming framed by a blood pool. Roy felt sick, and took in a long breath.

"Should we…. Get someone?" Roy said softly, and looked around to make sure it was still just the three of them in the tent. Kimblee was still perfectly unmoving, and Roy was glad to see no one had come in yet.

"What do we do?" Roy said very softly, and Maes looked a little sick.

"I think I killed him." Maes said slowly, and he nudged Kimblee's side with the toe of his boot. Black hair had stuck to his cheeks, and blood was drying around his mouth. Maes was hardly breathing, his eyes wide. Roy took a deeper breath, and made a decision.

"I think we have to bury him… Or else we'll get arrested for war crimes!" Roy said, and he pulled the sheet off Kimblee's bed and spread it out on the floor… the dirt floor of the tent would be hard to clean, but maybe if they dug out the blood and filled it with some from outside… Roy shook the thoughts out of his head… first things first; they had to dispose of the remains. He wiped the blood off his and Maes's hands, and then carefully wiped blood off Kimblee's body… it was still warm and felt strange through the filter of thin cloth. He gulped and Maes walked over to help. Between them, they soon had Kimblee in the blanket… and Roy was surprised to find he was very light. Suddenly Maes stopped.

"We gotta ditch his clothes… they might have our blood or sweat on them…" He said. Roy nodded, and they carefully started to strip him down. They left the false stone around his neck alone… many rumors went around about these mystical tools, and one was that they would turn black if a killer touched them… which was why most used gloves on their stones. Kimblee's body was as sinewy as he was, and his ribs protruded terribly. Roy gasped when he found a thin wound on Kimblee's back… it looked like fingernails.

"Somebody must have made all these…" Maes said softly. "I wonder why no one knew?" Roy sighed.

"No one asked… he never was friendly, and no one bothered to try and get to know him." Roy said, and both men looked at each other, feeling a little guilty, it was sad that he died without a friend in the world.

"Why do think he's so thin?" Maes finally asked, unable to look down anymore. Roy shrugged as they got the pants off… his legs had long scratches on them.

"Maybe anorexic… maybe he just is a thin person." Roy said, trying to sound offhanded. It didn't work and the two carefully carried their burden out, and past the fence that enclosed their camp. They were surprised to find there were no guards, and then remembered there was no reason to guard on Friday nights…. They were holy to the Ishballians. They found a quiet dune to hide behind, and started to dig. The deed was done quickly, since the sand was easy to move, and they covered the body quickly, then went back to get rid of the last of the evidence… having burned the clothes already.

They were safely back in camp soon, and slept the troubled sleep of the guilty. It was a week before anything happened… but when it did… it was bad. 


	2. Chapter 2

A week later, they still had no tent mate, and Kimblee had been declared AWOL, a heavy price on his head. Roy got back to the room at the same time as Maes, and they lingered outside, enjoying the thin breeze that came in the evening. They hadn't spoken of the event since they burned the clothes, and they were on pins, wondering how long the military would look of Kimblee… strangely, they had never known Kimblee's full name, but now it had been used by Archer, their superior officer.

"Zolf Jork…" Maes suddenly said, and Roy cringed.

"Please don't talk about him… I'm still kinda." Roy stopped, and the two went into the tent… then stopped dead.

There, on his old bunk, in an extra uniform, was Kimblee, lazily peeling some sort of root with a battered pocket knife. He sliced off a piece, and stabbed it with the knife, putting it in his mouth. He chewed slowly, his eyes sparkling with an unknown emotion as he regarded the two. He finally swallowed and swung to stand up.

"How…" was all Maes got out before Kimblee held up one inked hand in the quiet sign. He smiled.

"You know how sand is easy to dig in?" he said, his smile widening. "It's also loose enough to give air." He flicked a hand dismissively, and began to peel again.

"What… what will…" Roy started and Kimblee cut him off.

"Not so sure yet… I could go tell Archer… after all, I need some excuse for being gone so long… but maybe I'll cut you a break." As he said this, he sliced off another piece and put it in his mouth. Then he smiled, cut another piece and offered it to their direction. "Want one?"

They both shook their head, not sure what it was he was eating. He shrugged again. "Well then. Its time for you all to listen… I'll do the talking. I was gone because I was scouting an enemy camp, I got back last night. I am very sorry, but at least I got the coordinates." he finished, and let them think on it.

"Why are you helping us?" Roy finally asked. Kimblee smiled.

"I might need your help someday, it's useful to have something to hold over people… it really is." he took another bit of the root, and then sat back down.

"Oh, and check the pulse before you bury someone… especially with ahead wound, it's the most reliable factor." He chewed thoughtfully. "You sure you don't want any? It helps that damn thirst that persists in this hellhole." Maes took a deep breath and took the piece he was now offering, half expecting Kimblee to stab him in the hand, but the knife was still, and he put it in his mouth, expecting a dirty taste, but it was a little tart, and almost seemed to turn to water in his mouth.

"What is that?" He asked after he finished. Kimblee shrugged. "No clue… but the Ishballians eat it when they're on a journey." He kept peeling. "They don't peel it though… I suppose it must have more vitamins in the peel… most roots are like that. But the peel tastes very strongly of cloves, and is sort of unpleasant." He kept peeling, and Roy blinked.

"You're never this friendly…. This is the most words I think you've ever said without trying to wound…" He said slowly, hoping Kimblee wouldn't suddenly decide not to lie to Archer.

"True… I'm not friendly by nature… and it won't happen again for awhile… but this root is a little bit narcotic, so it helps my friendly-factor." He snickered, and Maes felt a little calmer. Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew he should feel angry at being fed a drug unaware, but somehow, it was too much work to get angry, so he sat down on his bed.

Roy was still sober, and now livid. "You drugged him!" Roy yelled, and Kimblee's eyes narrowed.

"I didn't do anything. If he wants it, I'll give it… besides, it's a good feeling." He cut a piece and offered it to Roy, who stared at it for a long time. It was white with slight red marbled in, and had a drop of liquid hanging off a cut angle. He took a deep breath and popped in his mouth, then lay down to sleep, wondering what would happen now. Soon he heard Kimblee leave the tent, and all these was, was a warm feeling, then sleep. 


End file.
